


(In My Sights) With These Hungry Eyes

by zoodlino



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoodlino/pseuds/zoodlino
Summary: When the Inception job goes sideways, Eames takes it upon himself to end things the only way left.. and ends up being voyeur to nothing he ever expected to see on the other side of his scope.Assassin!verse that ties into canon.





	(In My Sights) With These Hungry Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Equally inspired by "Mr Brightside" and "Hungry Eyes". Enjoy!

From his position on the buildings’s roof, Eames can see, well, everything. Such is generally the idea when hiring such a fine upstanding citizen as himself to take out a target.

Eames‘ quiet breaths billow into a small cloud in the night air, marking the onset of autumn. Of course this would be occasion that Eames forgot to bring his leather gloves. A slight tremor runs Eames‘ body, equally due to the chill and the task at hand. It’s been a while since Eames has engaged in this particular sort of moral corrupt behavior.

On the opposite street side, ensconced in a swanky hotel suite, is Eames‘ intended target: one Robert Fischer of the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate.

Unfortunately, their plans at Incepting Robert hadn’t taken, and certain forces (or however else one chose to refer to Saito) had decided there was only one other way to deal with the situation. Enter Eames, toting his favorite M40A3 rifle.

Generally, Eames makes it a rule not to engage in more stabbing and shooting than truly necessary, but with Robert, it feels personal. For some reason, however obscure and possibly touchy-feely, Eames wanted to be the one delivering the shot. Nothing he won’t be able to live with, even if Eames does feel the slightest sliver of sentimentality towards the man whose mind they’d infiltrated not so long ago.

Leaning towards the scope, Eames fixes all his attention on Robert. In the dim hotel suite’s light, Robert is hastily unfastening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt, exposing what is an annoyingly perfect throat column. As if agitated, Robert regards himself in the mirror above the suite’s oak desk, frowns, and runs a hand through his perfectly gelled hair, tousling it ever so much.

Eames, feeling a little inadequate in his own choice of dark sweatpants and a loose pullover, draws back a bit from the scope. If he isn’t completely off his mark, he would say Robert is expecting someone. Saito’s research hadn’t shown any such inclinations, but sure enough, when Eames refocuses the scope, Robert is popping a mint in his mouth.

Cursing his luck, Eames debates his options. To displease Saito would be entirely unwise, but it would be equally unfortunate to have a potential lover discover Robert’s body before Eames can disappear into the night with at least a bit of a head start. Doesn’t do to get sloppy, after all.

Lost in thought, Eames almost misses Robert heading for the door, reaffirming his suspicions. Eames‘ brain is spinning as he considers how to make the most of this inconvenience when – _no. No no no. It can’t be. Is that_ …

Arthur?!

Arthur, the lovely stick-in-the-mud, the know-it-all to Eames‘ enfant terrible. Despite himself, Eames‘ lips have parted into a silent O of surprise. Arthur’s been a very bad boy indeed if this is how he chooses to spend his nights. Eames wouldn’t have thought he had it in him. If Eames also feels a slight twinge of dismay, at least no one is around to call him on it. 

Across the street, Arthur and Robert are making no signs of this just being a strangely timed business meeting. Instead, Arthur closes the door behind him, dropping his briefcase on the floor with astoundingly little consideration. So much for that theory.

Eames‘ stomach turns as he realizes what he is about to witness. The last bit of hope drains from him when Robert strides to meet Arthur, sliding his hands beneath Arthur’s suit jacket with the practiced ease of someone who has done this before. Likely more than once.

And Eames… Eames can’t stop staring through his scope, trigger forgotten entirely as the scene before him unfolds.

Arthur’s jacket hits the floor uncaringly, a move that strikes Eames as simultaneously surprising and incredibly hot. Christ. When did Eames inherit the sensibilities of a Victorian heroine? After all, both men are still clothed. For now.

Cursing slightly, Eames jiggles with the bipod his rifle is resting on, unwilling to miss even a second of the action. By the time he adjusts the angle properly, Robert has straddled Arthur on the suite’s king bed and is kissing his way down Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s eyes are closed and his head is leaning back, an expression of bliss apparent on his face.

Eames can feel his own ears growing hot, which is quite an achievement for someone who’s seen as much as he has. There’s simply something so unabashed about Arthur, something so different from his usual point man’s precision, something…horribly sexy. Eames is hard in his sweat pants.

Eames can tell that Robert echoes the sentiment, the tent in his slacks evident even from the distance. The two men in the hotel room make a beautiful couple, and damn if that doesn’t hurt just a little bit. Eames has always been most adept at hiding his feelings, but there’s no one else on the roof to witness this particular mix of jealousy and being incredibly turned on.

Over in the suite, Robert and Arthur are oblivious to their rooftop voyeur, and are making quick work of Robert’s shirt. Eames can only imagine the pitter-patter of buttons on the floor as Arthur tosses the offending piece of fabric aside, apparently mourning the loss of Robert’s lips that undressing requires. Robert’s slacks follow suit, leaving the billionaire in a pair of black satin boxers, looking ridiculously debauched.

Arthur is still mostly dressed, which Robert is clearly seeking to rectify by grabbing hold of Arthur’s belt. The point man, however, is having none of it, slapping Robert’s roaming hands away. A delicious smirk paints Robert’s lips as Arthur leans back to unfasten his belt, gathering the black leather between his hands, looping its length around Robert’s neck to pull him closer and…pulling the ends closed around Robert’s windpipe?!

Startled, Eames makes sure he isn’t witnessing a more salacious brand of sexual taste, but no, Arthur is definitely choking Robert, whose hands are frantically reaching to unloop the leather straps from his throat, to no avail, and-

Robert’s body collapses in on itself, crashing onto Arthur, who deftly flips the corpse off to the side of the bed. With apparently no remorse, Arthur gets up, refastens his belt, collects his suit jacket and briefcase off the floor and breezes out of the room.

_Son of a bitch._

Eames is alone once more, sporting more than a bit of a hard-on and absolutely befuddled by seeing his job executed in front of his own scope. Suddenly a shrill tinny beep breaks the silence on the roof, leaving Eames fumbling for the phone he evidently forgot to put on silent.

\- [Unknown ID] -

_Get some sleep, Mr. Eames. You look tired._


End file.
